


i spy with my little eye, something beginning with squeak

by prettyshiroic (kcgane)



Series: antics and space mice and blades oh my [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Developing Friendships, EVERYONE - Freeform, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Long-Distance Friendship, allura and keith bonding, au where regris lives, blade of marmora, everyone loves keith, kolivan is so great, platt causes some trouble, which is very good, you'll find out how
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 23:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcgane/pseuds/prettyshiroic
Summary: “Look it doesn't - it doesn't matter just, it’s - what are you doing here?!”The mouse looks up at Keith. It understands what he’s saying, it absolutely does. But it's purposefully choosing to ignore his question. The audacity. Keith grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair. It's not like they can go all the way back to the castle now. The planning for the mission is underway and they’ll be taking off soon. Probably as soon as tomorrow, even. The war won’t wait for them. They have to keep going. Mice and all.“You can't be here. It's too dangerous it -” the mouse is tiny, comfortably fitting in his hand. “You're a mouse?!” Keith exclaims, voice low. It’s ridiculous. This cannot be real, but it is. The yellow mouse flexes its arms with gusto, pulling all kinds of poses as if to say it's strong and perfectly capable of fighting in this war. Keith seriously doubts that.----Keith leaves for the Blade of Marmora, and soon discovers - in more ways than expected - he's not alone...





	i spy with my little eye, something beginning with squeak

**Author's Note:**

> this was so fun to write!
> 
> For day 6 of platonic vld week: distance AND proximity

The journey to the Blade of Marmora headquarters is quiet. Kolivan doesn’t speak, but that’s because he somehow senses that the quiet is what Keith needs. It’s a respectful silence, not an authoritative one. Keith lets the quiet soak into his skin, the same way it did in the desert when he built his resolve back up from sand and carved a new course into the mountains. The quiet speaks for him, says things he can’t say. It gives weight to decisions, purpose to the stretching distance.

This is for the best.

It is. For them. For him. For the universe.

The moment the ship lands at the base, Keith exits. He doesn’t wait for confirmation they’re here, because the ship has stopped and that’s indication enough. He needs to walk to shed the red armour he is no longer wearing, because it’s clinging to his skin. Claws digging into chest and prying him back despite there not being a place for him. It’s not his place anymore, not his armour. Pressing his eyes shut, Keith walks through the main corridor, veering immediately to the left. He doesn’t want to bump into anybody right now. But once he’s regathered his composure, he’ll pay Regris a visit.

Walking down the corridor, Keith stops when something rustles in his hood. Reaching behind him, Keith’s hand meets soft fur - _fur -_ and as he tugs the squirming creature to his face to inspect, his eyes widen. No way. It's one of the space mice. Opening his hand, Keith cradles the mouse in bewilderment. He's tempted to check the rest of his hood in case another has snuck in there, but there's a distinct lack of rustling.

“...Plank?” Keith asks, looking down at the small mouse in the palm of his hands. The mouse who tucked itself into his hood and travelled _all the way back with him_ to the marmora base. A mouse that _definitely_ should not be here. Absolutely not.

“Plaque?” Keith tries again. He's admittedly not very good at names, but he thinks he's getting closer. According to the mouse, he’s still off. If a mouse could ever have the capacity to look unimpressed and raise an eyebrow, then now was the time this one did. This mouse is unhappy with him.

“Argh,” Keith hisses in frustration _because he doesn't have time for this_ . He’s a blade now, and he it won't look good to be caught goofing off - even if that's _not_ what he's doing - with a fluffy mouse. “Look it doesn't - it doesn't matter just, it’s - _what are you doing here?!”_

The mouse looks up at Keith. It understands what he’s saying, it absolutely does. But it's purposefully choosing to ignore his question. The _audacity._ Keith grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair. It's not like they can go all the way back to the castle now. The planning for the mission is underway and they’ll be taking off soon. Probably as soon as tomorrow, even. The war won’t wait for them. They have to keep going. Mice and all.

“You can't be here. It's too dangerous it -” the mouse is _tiny,_ comfortably fitting in his hand. “ _You're a mouse?!”_ Keith exclaims, voice low. It’s ridiculous. This cannot be real, _but it is._ The yellow mouse flexes its arms with gusto, pulling all kinds of poses as if to say it's strong and perfectly capable of fighting in this war. Keith seriously doubts that.

“Listen. You _have_ to go back. Allura is gonna notice you’re gone. Besides, what - what about your shows?”

Keith honestly isn't sure if the mice still have time to do those anymore. Allura pilots a lion now, she's not in the castle as much as before. Unless they do the shows for Coran, or even just in the privacy of their own company. The mouse bows its head, confirming Keith’s suspicions. It also confirms that he’s really put his foot in it now. Bringing up the shows is clearly a bad idea. There's a tiny squeak and _oh._ Oh no. Great.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Keith says and that’s the catalyst because suddenly the yellow mouse is sobbing animatedly. Tiny puddles of moisture seep into Keith’s gloved hands. Unsure how to proceed, Keith gently strokes behind the mouse’s ear. He’s made this tiny adorable creature _cry._ He feels horrible for it. And then there’s the fact the mouse shouldn’t even _be here._

“I'm sorry about your shows…”

The mouse simply cries harder, burying its face into his hand. Pursing his lips, Keith thinks it over. It's not like he can meet up with the others right now or just waltz into the castle and hand the mouse over to Allura. _Things are different now._ There’s distance, in many respects. The best option really is keeping the mouse close. Losing sight of it in a base this massive would be catastrophic. With the continuous tiny pats Keith offers, the mouse seems to settle down a little. That's good. Exhaling sharply, Keith leans forwards. He raises his hands so they're eye-level.

“Okay,” he begins as sternly as he can manage without being _too_ forceful. The mouse is clearly very sensitive to his distress. It’s very upset about the shows, so Keith has no idea what else could set it off. He has to be careful with what he says. “If you're gonna stay here then you gotta follow my lead. No missions. No sneaking off. Stick with me or stay in my room. Everywhere else is off limits unless I'm there too, got it?”

The mouse is far too excited about his acceptance. Keith wonders if it even _listened_ to the rules. It jumps up and down, bouncing up to push its nose against his cheek before continuing to scurry aimlessly in his hands. Then the squeaking starts. Loud and boisterous, cries of clear joy that ring through the hallway. The high pitch echoes for too long, catching in the high ceiling. Glancing over his shoulder, relieved the hallway is still empty, Keith struggles to soften his frustration.

“Can you keep it down?!” he mutters, closing his hands over the mouse apprehensively as it just seems to be getting louder and _louder_. “Someone’s gonna-”

“-Keith, there you are. You took off in a hurry.”

Shoot. _It's Kolivan._ Transferring the mouse to one closed hand quickly, Keith stuffs it back into his hood. He lets his hand linger for a moment, as if scratching something behind his back. As Kolivan approaches, he quirks an eyebrow. The whole thing is painfully awkward, Keith knows he looks awkward. But he’s such a horrible liar and Kolivan is definitely the person Keith wants to impress. There is no way he can explain this situation without giving the impression he isn’t taking this seriously enough. He’s already been reprimanded by team voltron for as much, _are you even taking this seriously-?,_ despite it not being remotely the case.

“Is the suit irritable?”

“No,” _But the thing moving restlessly in his hood just might be._ “It's fine.”

Nodding, Kolivan doesn't press the matter further. Instead, he gestures for Keith to walk with him. Falling into step beside Kolivan, Keith clings onto the silence. Again, a lingering kind of quiet. It’s not a tense one, but one he hopes passes fast. Although Keith _knows_ he hasn’t done anything wrong, he’s expecting an oncoming lecture or scolding for something. _He can’t help it._ Not when that seems to be the only thing the team and most people as of late wanted to do. Perhaps they’re looking out for him, trying to guide him in the best direction. But towards the end, it doesn’t feel that way. And it’s not like Keith doesn’t _know_ he can do better or _be better_ than everything he is _._

He’s trying.

“I wanted to update you on the arrangements. We will be leaving tomorrow for the mission,” Kolivan begins. Instead of going into the arrangements, the conversation takes an interesting turn. “Regris has requested you bunk with him for the night.”

“Regris is out the infirmary?” Keith asks instantly, unable to mask his elated smile at the news. That’s great. _Really great._ Kolivan hums thoughtfully, steering them closer towards the room that belongs to Keith. And Regris, who is out the infirmary.

“You must understand that it is not possible to save everyone,” Kolivan says, and he sounds truly troubled by this. It’s as if he is lamenting the loss of those he himself could not save. Keith recognises the unexpected guilt festering between the words. Glancing up, Keith chases eyes that won’t meet him. Maybe that’s because Kolivan is looking ahead, or maybe it’s because this is already too much exposure. Keith wonders if it’s too much of an intrusion to offer some kind of response. Before he can even consider it, Kolivan continues.

“He would not be here were it not for you and your quick thinking, but you _both_ would not be here had I let you go.”

Keith knows it’s true. He had dived in without thought for himself or anything else in order to save Regris. In hindsight, he _knows_ it wasn’t the best approach. But he also knows in the heat of the moment, he wouldn’t hesitate to lunge forwards again. If Kolivan hadn’t dragged him away, they both would have died. If Kolivan hadn’t dragged him back, Keith wouldn’t have listened to his _instincts_ over his impulse, and Regris would still have died.

Opening his mouth, words he has chosen from the ashes of a simmering fire, Keith lets out a squeak. Wait. No, _no_ that isn’t him it’s the _mouse._ The mouse, right. He’s still carrying a mouse in his hood. Kolivan looks momentarily startled, blinking slowly. He seems unsure if he heard correctly. But as Keith formulates an excuse, another squeak comes. Clearing his throat pointedly, he reaches into his hood to try and somehow communicate that _now is not the time._

Thankfully, the squeaking stops. But Keith’s heart doesn’t stop racing. This had to happen in front of Kolivan didn't it. _Kolivan._ Averting his gaze, Keith shuffles awkwardly. This is terrible. He has to get the mouse to his room before it tries to cause more trouble or does _something else_ and-

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” Kolivan responds easily, something like a laugh lacing his words. Surprised, Keith looks up to see the trace of a smile on Kolivan’s face. “You are still young and growing, it is natural for your voice to be changing.”

 _Growing._ Realisation hits. Kolivan thinks _Keith_ made these noises. Because he’s growing. If Keith wasn’t embarrassed before, _then he is now._

“Kolivan, I-” Keith has no idea what he can say. _That wasn’t me it was the mouse_ isn’t exactly appropriate. Brushing shoulders so lightly Keith isn’t sure if he imagined the touch, Kolivan continues down the hallway.

“Get some rest, Keith.”

Once Kolivan rounds the corner, Keith reaches into his hood and pulls the mouse out. It’s grinning, pleased with finally regaining attention. Completely unfazed and unaware of how _awkward_ that entire conversation was because of it’s incessant squeaking. Narrowing his eyes, Keith blinks slowly. It’s then he realises the grin is mischievous. Oh. It’s not unaware at all, _it knows._ Agitated by the smugness this tiny mouse exudes, Keith’s jaw clenches. This mouse cannot get the better of him. Come on. _Patience yields focus._

“Very funny,” his cutting sarcasm is completely lost to the mouse. Dragging a hand down his face, Keith groans. Right. Best sort this little guy out so then Keith can _actually_ focus on the mission and sort out some final preparations. Setting the mouse back into his hood, Keith stares down the door ahead. His room. Recalling Kolivan’s words, he steps forwards with enthusiasm. _Regris!_

Looking up as Keith steps into the room, Regris offers a welcoming smile. He’s in casual blade clothes, a long cloak strapped to his back for dramatic effect. There’s no need for it, but it serves as an extra blanket on the bed. And a shield - beneath the cloak, Keith knows he is covered in bandages.

“You’re looking well,” Keith greets earnestly.

A soft affection smoothes over his face, slipping into his lips and tugging them upwards. He reaches over to pat Regris’ shoulder. Usually they’d shake in the quirky unique way they had developed together, hand and tail. But things are a little different now. Healing burns and sore scars litter most of his back and curl across his neck from the blast. The mask did a good job of protecting his face from the flames. There’s a tinge of gratitude etched into everything Regris does when Keith is concerned now. _Because Keith saved him._

As Kolivan yanked Keith to safety, Keith took a risk. A big one. But he didn’t have time to waver or rethink the decision. He threw the knife from his side towards Regris desperately. The knife hit just above Regris’ shoulder, already pulling loose as Keith got further away. It all happened so slowly, and so fast. ‘ _Regris, jump!’_ Keith had yelled voice cracking and body trembling with fear, Kolivan quickening his pace as the explosion grew imminently close. Regris, having just come to terms with death, grabbed the knife swiftly and Keith tugged with every fibre of his being. He pulled the rope back towards him. Regris got closer and closer, still too far, and the blast struck. Regris jumped on Keith’s request and the room lit up, engulfed in ugly relentless fire.

The risk had paid off, and now Regris is sat here in their room flipping through some kind of book in Galra Keith doesn’t know how to read. Maybe one day he can have time to learn. Once upon a time, Regris would be holding the book by his tail - but the tail is gone now. Losing the tail had caused some complications to balance and walking, the equivalent to losing a human limb. Still on crutches that are propped against the bed, Regirs is doing far better than he was a few weeks ago. Though there’s absolutely no way he can join them on the big mission.

He’s _alive._ Regris is alive, against all odds. That counts for something, a big something.

“You left Voltron,” Regris breathes in evident surprise. The gravity of it, of everything Keith has done, is not lost on Regris. Hearing it out loud, being here at the base, stings. Keith winces, back turned so the way his face crumples is unseen. A raspy laugh that reveals _everything_ falls from his lips.

“Yeah, well. I’m here, aren’t I?”

The slightly snarky deflection isn’t appreciated by Regris. Huffing, the Galra reaches for the crutches.

“ _Keith_ …”

Curling up his red jacket hanging on the edge of the bed, Keith turns it into some kind of makeshift nest on his bed and promptly turns to Regris. It’s fine. They don’t need to talk about it. He doesn’t _want_ to talk about it. Talking will result in the things he’s barely suppressed bursting to the surface messily. They don’t have time to deal with explosive intense emotions. Not to mention, there’s a little problem he needs to take care of in his hood. And now he knows Regris is no longer in the infirmary, an idea has sparked.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.”

That has Regris setting down his book. Ever curious and yearning for information, he shuffles closer to Keith. Perhaps it’s unfair to bait Regris away from a serious discussion. But Keith is so very tired of heavy conversations. He also really needs to make sure this is sorted out before he goes. Expectantly, Regris glances between the scrunched up jacket and Keith. Reaching into his hood, Keith pulls out the mouse and sets it down.

“What is that?” Regris asks, totally enraptured by the tiny creature and clearly keen to learn more.

“It’s a mouse.” If Keith could just remember the name, that would make this much easier.

“I do not know what a mouse is…” Regris replies honestly. Even with the universal translator allowing them to speak, there are still often misunderstandings in speech. This is a prime example, confirmed as Regris leans forwards on his bed. “A mouse.”

“No, it’s-” Keith points to the yellow mouse, lips twitching in flitting amusement. “ _Mouse_.” He’s no grammar professor, so he can’t really explain properly why the ‘a’ exists. But Regris nods and seems to understand what he means. The tail fascinates him, spurring a pang in Keith’s chest. Regris must really miss his tail.

“I need you to look after this guy whilst I’m away,” Keith scoops the mouse into his hands, dropping it into Regris’ lap. Reaching down carefully, Regris nudges its head. Within seconds, a pointy-toothed smile spreads over his face. It shouldn’t be so endearing, but it is. Keith leans back against the wall to watch, arms folded.

“I think this little mouse can fend for itself. After all, it is a brave warrior of Voltron.” Regris’ blatant teasing merely encourages the mouse. Hopping up onto Regris’ shoulder, the mouse squeaks happily. Keith feels like he's made a big mistake here, exasperation growing just when it finally was ebbing. Just one glance between them makes it clear this is a mistake. This introduction is the beginning of a new unlikely companionship. He watches an easy tell-telling smile slip over Regris’ face. There’s something _cheeky_ there. The mouse has coaxed it out of a restless Regris, who is confined to at least a few weeks more of solid rest.  

These two are going to be trouble together. _Keith can sense it._

“What shall I call it?” Regris asks.

“Pique,” Keith responds flatly.

The mouse sticks out its tongue, and Regris laughs airly. Keith is being somewhat serious, by all counts it’s a perfectly adequate name. More than close enough to whatever the mouse’s real name is. Regris cheerfully pats the mouse’s head, clearly already attached. _Far too attached_. It’s almost as if the mouse and Keith have been some of the only interactions he’s had for some time. Keith sincerely hopes that’s not true, but it would make sense. The blades have been very busy, and their numbers are stretched thinly. There hasn’t been much time to stand around, even if it’s to entertain someone healing from wounds.

“That’s not very nice, Keith.”

Regris is already swaying from side to side, eyes growing heavy. If he’s not careful, then he’ll fall off the bed in overexertion and hurt himself. Plucking the mouse from his shoulders, setting it down in the jacket nest, Keith gently nudges Regris backwards. He catches sight of the small vial on the desk, undoubtedly something to ease the pain of his burns and scars. That’s got to have some impact on his energy too. Most medications on earth seemed to induce drowsiness, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same out here in space.

“I’m not very nice.” It’s mean to be a stupid pointless joke, but the angle Keith approaches it is all wrong. The words roll off his tongue bitterly, and his fist clenches. Maybe it’s true.

“No,” Regris confirms through a yawn he can barely stifle. Head hitting the pillow, his eyes close. “You’re... nicer than nice.”

“Really.” Keith indulges his friend with a fond eye roll. Grabbing one of Regris’ legs, he gently guides it back onto the bed so he can be more comfortable.

“Yes.” It sounds so _genuine_ Keith is stumped. “You are the nicest and goodest person I have ever met, Keith.”

Goodest definitely _isn’t_ an earth word, and probably not even a Galra word, but Keith lets it go. He understands what Regris is trying to say as sleep beckons him closer.

“Whatever you say,” Keith murmurs whilst tucking the second leg into the bed. Next comes the covers. As Keith pulls them over Regris carefully, a hand reaches out urgently.

“Wake me before you go.” _Promise,_ is etched into the words. Keith hears it explicitly. Regris wants to say goodbye. Before the decoy ship, they would’ve both been going on this mission. But now they’ll be parting ways for _who knows_ how long. It’s another goodbye Keith has to his name, another occasion where people will be leaving his side. No matter how much this has happened, Keith is never used to it.

“Yeah.” Nodding, Keith moves from the bed. By the time he’s climbing onto his bed, Regris has already slipped out of consciousness. His breathing mellows out, loud enough and rhythmic enough to be the product of sleep.

Leaning back on the bed, Keith looks up at the ceiling. It’s really happening. He’s going on the mission tomorrow. Yellow fuzz fades into his vision, and he abruptly sits up. The mouse has grown closer, propping itself on his knee. Staring down at the mouse, Keith frowns. The others are probably settling down for the end of their day now too. He tries not to think too much about that, whether they miss him or not. But Keith is _certain_ Allura is bound to have noticed the absence of one of the space mice at this point.

“Allura is not gonna be happy with you.”

The mouse doesn’t seem affected by his words, which is odd. Really odd. Narrowing his eyes, Keith leans forwards. That’s when it gets _weirder._ The mouse tries to escape back to the jacket. After all this time scooting closer it suddenly wants to leave his side. That’s suspicious. Dangling it by the tail, Keith raises an eyebrow. Something’s not right here. Gears turning, Keith stews it over until - _oh._ Ah. Well. 

“Allura knows you’re here.”

The mouse nods, slumping defeatedly in Keith's grasp.  

“Allura _sent you.”_

The mouse nods again.

Keith isn’t sure whether to be touched or _insulted._ He’s more than capable of looking after himself. He doesn’t need _babysitting_ or whatever it was Allura seems to think sending a mouse after him would do. Certainly nothing productive or helpful. Setting down the mouse, Keith reaches for the holopad on Regris’ desk and begins tapping a series of codes into the screen. He needs to sort this out before he leaves, needs to know _why_ this happened.

External calls, as expected, need authorisation. That doesn’t deter him, however. Kolivan’s face appears on the screen.

“Kolivan, is it possible to hook me up with Allura?” Keith says into the holopad.

Kolivan is quiet for a beat too long. And it’s then the frustration he feels about this _ridiculous_ situation gives way for the crushing reality. _There are bigger things to think about than this._ Right. Figures. Preparing a hasty apology, Keith is too swept up in embarrassment to notice the soft embers of sympathy burning in Kolivan’s eyes.

“Your farewell with Voltron was fleeting,” Kolivan responds, tapping a few buttons as he speaks. Oh. The authorisation is clearing. “But you must understand once we take off tomorrow there cannot be any external communications. The possibility of being traced could sabotage our entire operation.”

“I understand,” pause. A tentative smile. “Thanks, Kolivan.”

As their call disconnects, Keith waits for Allura to appear on the screen. The mouse is pressing its feet together, like a kid sitting in the principal's office after doing something naughty.  

“Keith.”

Snapping his gaze up to the screen, Keith sits upright. Allura is undoubtedly surprised but _pleasantly surprised_ to see him pop up on the screen. She’s in her paladin armour, despite being in her dimly-lit room. Maybe, much like Keith, she is reluctant to unwind and switch off in the event of the universe calling upon them. Keith has no intentions of removing his blade suit tonight, either. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiles in a way that Keith is familiar with. Unsure yet persistent in making it work. A downward tug of her eyebrows indicates concern.

“Is something the matter?”

“Do I need a reason to call?” Keith counters, and it’s deliberately leading. He _does_ have a reason, and the question is an underhanded facetious one if anything. But Allura doesn’t know that, because she doesn't know _Keith knows._

“It is always pleasing to hear from you. Only I -....I was not expecting to be hearing from you so soon.”

She averts her gaze. Shoulders hunch a fraction. It’s a nervous tick that doesn’t belong with her usual assured demeanour. Keith raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. _Gotcha._ She’s nervous because the mouse isn’t lying. Allura really _did_ send the mouse, and she doesn’t want to be caught out.

“Hearing from me and this guy, you mean.” Lifting up the mouse, Keith waits for the penny to drop.

Eyes widening, Allura’s cheek flush. She’s clearly embarrassed about being discovered, her attempts at a sly scheme falling short. Keeping his voice low, Keith sets the mouse down.

“What exactly were you thinking? I’m not some lost _kid_ , Allura.”

“Keith.”

“These missions are just as dangerous as Voltron’s work if not more.” The thought of the mouse being caught in some crossfire or tagging along on a mission and getting hurt has Keith scowling. He has to force his lips to stay down, or the upwards curl and bitter despairing laugh building will reveal too much. Horrifying panic and sharp alarm. Realisations he doesn’t want. “I - I can’t be responsible for another life like this-”

“- _Keith,_ please-”

He _can’t._ Not when he almost lost Regris on a mission right in front of him. Not when he vowed to save Shiro and keep him safe - _as many times as it takes._ Not when his efforts at leadership and working with others seem to keep amounting to putting others in jeopardy. Not when Kolivan keeps implying he isn’t being nearly responsible enough with _his own life._

“- _Just,_ listen. _”_ Holding up a hand placatingly, Keith waits until Allura’s defence ebbs enough for him to carry on. He needs to say this, make it clear. “I don’t - I don’t need a chaperone. I can handle myself out here.”

Allura bristles, visibly frustrated, and Keith has always admired how she refuses to take anything without giving just as a good right back. Now that is turned on _him_ however, Keith can suddenly understand far better why the other party usually backs down so swiftly. But Keith can hold his own just as well. They are both relentless, firm forces that will stand their ground for what they believe. Even a collision of words with Allura requires the same focus as a fight with his blade. Swift parries and smooth counterattacks.

“I never said you couldn’t handle yourself. And I did not consider _you_ to be a person who put words in other’s mouths.”

 _That_ bristles Keith. She’s right. Keith doesn’t put words in people’s mouths, nor does he appreciate people doing that to him. But he’s _not_ doing that. The truth is palpable here. There’s no way else to explain this. Allura is playing an avoidance game because he figured it out quicker than she thought he would. Keith isn’t sure she _does_ know he can handle himself. Her words don’t match up with the actions. The more this picture comes into focus, the more it looks like Allura sent the mouse to _spy_ on him.

“You sent a mouse to spy on me.” Folding his arms, Keith leans back and waits for an explanation.

“ _Spy on you?_ _!”_ Allura laughs in disbelief like it’s the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. It’s brittle and piercing. "I did no such thing!"

“Yes! You did!” Keith unfolds his arms, gesturing passionately to the mouse in his lap that is flicking its head back and forth between them.

“Is that really what you think, that I would invade your privacy and disrespect your choice in such a way?”  

“Now look who’s putting words in people’s mouths,” Keith retorts with a huff before he can stop himself. He didn’t take Allura to be a hypocrite. The words catch Allura off guard. Eyes flashing with remorse, she falls quiet for a moment.

“I apologise for not making my intentions clearer. I thought you would understand…”

The words are so loaded with things Keith fails to process that _Keith_ is caught off guard this time. He’s out of information that makes sense now. If Allura didn’t send the mouse to spy on him, then _why did she?_ Sensing his confusion, Allura’s irritation simmers down. Their brief dispute is put to rest. Folding her hands into her lap, Allura offers a tentative smile.

“Understand what?” Keith asks, because he has to know.   

“That I didn’t want you to feel alone,” she admits, gazing down at the floor.

There’s something truly so dejected in her tone Keith _can’t believe_ he missed it before. Whether he noticed at the time or not, Allura has been watching him and keeping him in her thoughts. Perhaps far more than Keith even thought was possible. _That’s why you’re pulling away from us._

“I know you’re not truly alone, and I hope that _you_ believe that. You have the blades and Kolivan, but I thought perhaps Platt could be there when Voltron could not.”

The sentiment is a little overwhelming. Keith’s frown loosens, tension fading away. In its place is sharp hot heat, uncomfortable due to the intensity. Allura didn’t send Platt to spy on him. She didn’t send the mouse to be nosy and keep him in check. She sent Platt to _look after him._ To be a comforting presence -  a friend. Because she cares about him. _She didn’t want him to feel alone._ Keith trips over words piling up on his tongue, unsure exactly which ones to pick here.

Meeting her eyes, Keith feels something twisting uncomfortably in his stomach. _God._

“Platt,” is what Keith settles for awkwardly. Finally, he can remember the mouse’s name. _That makes one out of four._ Platt sheepishly moves closer, falling into Keith’s lap to wave at Allura. Adorable or not, it doesn’t change the fact that Platt has been more than a handful since making itself known. “Platt hasn’t been very well behaved.”

“Oh my!” Allura gives a tired laugh, eyes gleaming _knowingly_. “I’m sorry, Keith. I did not think this course through beyond trying to console you.”

Tilting his head, Keith considers her words. Another surprise. He’s read this entire thing completely wrong. _Console._ The fire in his chest is too big and growing too fast. Keith doesn’t know how he can possibly hope to speak without spluttering on smoke or burning his tongue on the flames. There’s a heavy lump growing in his throat difficult to swallow. _Console._

“We’re leaving tomorrow. So I should get going,” Keith blurts out without ceremony. That is absolutely _not_ what he planned to say at all. But he can’t take the words back now. Allura leans back from the screen, expression hardening into something more serious.

“I see.”

 _Keith doesn’t see_ because he cannot understand what exactly that means. Gesturing to Platt, he offers a strained smile.

“Don’t worry about this little guy, Regris will take good care of Platt whilst I’m gone.”

Something tells Keith that Allura isn’t worried about Platt. The undertone in their conversation has been far from subtle.

“And you will take care of yourself.” It’s not a question, or even a suggestion. It’s a stern pressing fact Allura dares Keith to challenge. _Please, come back to us._

“Yeah.” _I will._ Recalling Kolivan’s words, Keith lifts the holopad from where he’s leant it against the pillows. “Once we go, no external calls.” This will be the last time Keith speaks to any of them for a long while. Clasping a hand to her chest, Allura’s eyes soften far more than expected.

“I’m so proud to have you in my family.”

 _Family._ Blinking rapidly, Keith feels unwanted moisture prodding at his eyes. No. _No._ He’s not doing this here in front of Allura. He’s not doing this the night before the mission. He _can’t._

“I -...” His voice cracks and with it his composure. “I should go.”

“Good luck!” Allura chimes, beaming with a final wave.

Keith thinks he can see something glassy in her own eyes, a shiver in her smile that is close to breaking. But before he can really investigate further, the connection cuts out. Pressing a hand to his face, Keith rubs insistently at the throbbing between his eyebrows. _Family._ Well. Sucking in a shaky breath, he clamps his eyes shut. Platt shuffles close, nuzzling into his side. _I didn’t want you to feel alone._

“I agree with the Princess,” Regris’ voice sounds from across the room. Right. Of course. He’d probably woken up during the dispute, Keith hadn’t really given much thought to his volume at the time. “I am also proud to call you family.”

So apparently, everyone is set on _destroying him_ today.

Rolling onto his side, Keith clasps the sheets tightly. This is too much. _Way too much._ Hands trembling, he tries to regulate his breathing. _Family._ Voltron. The blades. If a tiny noise escapes his lips before he can push his mouth against the pillow, then he’ll blame it on the mouse.

“Keith,” Regris stirs. “Are you alright?”

“Stop crying, Platt,” Keith grumbles between quiet wet breaths. Platt caused enough trouble, Platt can take the fall for him here. It’s not him. He’s fine. He’s _fine._

“What is a Platt?”

A little delirious with exhaustion and the high of emotions too powerful to contain, Keith laughs breathlessly at the question. There’s a wet trail down his face he scrubs at with his sleeve.

“It’s a mouse.”

“A Platt is a kind of mouse?’

“Platt _is_ the mouse.”

“Not Pique, then.” It’s a joke, but it’s far too late - or early - for it to really register.

“Hm…” Keith responds absently, curling further into the covers. There’s something about talking to another person whilst on the precipice of sleep that makes falling into darkness less unnerving. He can feel himself succumbing to it all, fists unclenching and tension sagging.

“Goodnight, Keith.”

“Night Regris.”

There’s an indignant squeak that breaks the building silence.

_“...Goodnight Platt.”_


End file.
